


in love with a ship that's been sinking from the start

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Adventure, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 04:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19266259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "We’re going on a treasure hunt!”“A treasure hunt?” Jaemin scoffs. “For the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Or maybe the sleep you’re making me lose?”“No," Donghyuck grins. “For a dead body.”





	in love with a ship that's been sinking from the start

**Author's Note:**

> hello, please tell me what u think!!!! if it's confusing/vague please let me know.... ◟(๑•͈ᴗ•͈)◞

 

When Donghyuck was young, his sister Yerim would tell him stories of a pirate called Mark Lee who sat on a throne of jewels and wore silk shirts as white as sea-foam. Even now Donghyuck likes to picture it: a man sitting amongst rubies and diamonds, his sword glittering in the balmy glow of candlelight.

It’s the story he tells the night they gather around the campfire in Jaemin’s back garden, the air thick with smoke and unsung stories. The night is cold and dark, and as the boys lean toward the fire, out of curiosity and the need for warmth, their fire-lit faces float amongst the dark like disembodied heads. It’s terrifying, and Donghyuck nearly decides to turn inside.

“I’m sick of scary stories,” Renjun says as Jaemin finishes up a story about poltergeists.

“That’s just because you’re scared,” Donghyuck taunts as if he isn’t shaking, either.

Renjun sits on his hands to hide the way they tremble. “No, they’re boring. I want something exciting… with guns and swords and aliens.”

“Aliens are scary,” Jeno points out. “Have you seen that movie? The one with the facehuggers?” He shivers, arms curling around himself. “Disgusting.”

“Aliens are not disgusting.” Renjun sounds almost offended. “There are things _in_ this world and _out_ of this world that neither you nor I can understand. Things that we haven’t seen yet. Beautiful things.”

Jeno wrinkles his nose. “There’s nothing beautiful about a facehugger.”

Donghyuck snorts and looks at Jeno’s disembodied head over the top of the campfire. “You don’t say that when you let Jaemin facehug you.”

Jeno’s heat-flushed cheeks darken and his eyes dart to the floor, ashamed, but Jaemin’s more confident. He locks eyes with Donghyuck over the campfire and pulls Jeno into his side, one hand cupping Jeno’s jaw, the other settling on his hip. Donghyuck narrows his eyes, _daring._ Jaemin takes the bait. He leans in, eyes still locked with Donghyuck, and kisses Jeno with fire-hot passion, all exaggerated moans, their lips smacking wetly.

Donghyuck gags. When he doesn’t think he can bear it any longer, he grabs Renjun by the hand and runs toward the house, locking the door behind them. Renjun laughs and presses his face against the glass.

“They’re still kissing,” Renjun says, slightly out of breath. “I don’t think they even know we’re gone.”

“Let them. I’d say they’d get bored eventually and come crawling back, but I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Renjun laughs. “I don’t think so, either.”

The kitchen is quiet and warm, lit dimly by the distant light of the campfire. They lay their coats down on the checkerboard tile floor and have a picnic with the snacks they raid from Jaemin’s pantry: custard creams, marshmallows, doughnuts with jam filling that drips down their wrists.

When they’re sated to the point of sleepiness, they lay on their backs to watch the shadows of the campfire ripple on the ceiling. Renjun is pressed firmly into Donghyuck’s side. They’re so close that Donghyuck can hear him breathing. He tilts his head to stare at the side of Renjun’s face, at his hair that flops over his eyes, the soft curve of his jaw.

All of a sudden, everything feels too small. It’s intense, as if someone packed up the world and shoved it inside Jaemin’s matchbox kitchen. Even the air above him presses down on his chest with the weight of oceans, bleeds his lungs dry.

Not looking away, Donghyuck chokes out, “You want to hear a story?”

Renjun turns his head, too. They’re so close that Donghyuck grows dizzy looking in his eyes.

“What kind of story?” Renjun whispers back.

“A sad one.”

Renjun considers him for a moment, and then smiles. “Okay.”

Yerim had told him the story of a pirate. The story Donghyuck tells is different; Donghyuck tells the story of _Mark Lee,_ a boy who was in love with the sea. Donghyuck had loved him, once. Dreamt about him like summer days. Even now the very mention of his name stirs something dormant inside of him.

Donghyuck reaches into the deepest part of his soul and plucks out every thought and every feeling he’d bottled up for the past ten years, bottles he’d cast off to the ocean and thought he’d never see again. It’s a story so passionate that Donghyuck’s not even sure he’s the one telling it. It must be a different Donghyuck, he reasons. Another Donghyuck inside of him, a Donghyuck from a past life. One who loved a boy who sacrificed himself to the sea.

“Every time Mark left their island, he swore he would come back. He promised them that he just had to find enough gold to pay for them to move to the mainland, and then they’d leave. Together. All six of them.”

Renjun’s eyes are blown wide. “And did he?”

“He did,” Donghyuck affirms and Renjun smiles slow and sweet, warm as candlelight. “But—”

The kitchen door flies open and shatters the tranquility. Donghyuck and Renjun look up, eyes wide and mouths parted in shock at having been caught, but Jaemin doesn’t question them curled up on his kitchen floor. He frowns over at the mess of wrappers sitting at their feet and says with his swollen and bruised lips,

“What the fuck, guys. You ate all the Jammie Dodgers.”

 

 

 

Donghyuck’s dreaming. He’s standing at the place where the land meets the sea, his toes sinking into the wet sand. The sea is quiet and the wind through his hair is soft. It’s almost paradise.

But there, out on the horizon, is a ship. A ship with sails like clouds and masts so tall they seem to pierce the sky. It’s a lonely ship. It drifts across the horizon as if lost, and Donghyuck feels something deep inside of him tugging. Donghyuck thinks he knows this ship. It’s familiar the way dreams are, unplaceable but _right._

Donghyuck curls his hand into a makeshift telescope and squints through it. He can see closer, now, can see the molluscs clinging to the side of the ship and the deep gashes in the wood.

He can see someone standing on the starboard, his hair as black as night, his white shirt fluttering in the wind. He tenses as if sensing Donghyuck’s gaze and begins to slowly turn towards the shore. Just before Donghyuck can see his face, he wakes, drenched in briny sweat.

Donghyuck _knows._

He jumps from his bed and steals downstairs as fast as he can. The floorboards creak underfoot and the cat rouses from where she’s perched on the living room armchair. Donghyuck takes his yellow raincoat from the coat hanger, slides on his too-big wellies, and trudges off into the night.

He goes first to Jeno’s house, because Jeno’s the only one with a car. Little pebbles line Jeno’s walkway, and Donghyuck bends down to pick one up. He tosses it around in his hand for a moment and then throws it at Jeno’s bedroom window. There’s no answer. He picks up another, blows on it for good luck, and catapults it. The _clink_ it makes is strangely satisfying and though he knows it was loud enough to rouse a light sleeper like Jeno, he picks up another pebble and hurls it at the window.

Except, it doesn’t hit the window. It hits Jaemin squarely on the forehead, and he blinks down at Donghyuck with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Jaemin snarls once he’s got his bearings, his eyes narrowing and thin lips pressing into a line.

“I could ask you the same question. You’re not Jeno.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “How astute, Donghyuck.”

Jeno’s disembodied voice floats through the window. “Hyuckie’s here?” Not a second later he comes into view, apparating besides Jaemin, shirtless. “Why were you throwing pebbles at my window?” he asks.

“A Shakespearean call. I thought it would be only fitting, considering the tragic journey we’re about to embark on.”

For a moment there is silence. Then, Jaemin slowly leans into Jeno’s side, his eyes focused on Donghyuck all the while, and says, “Jen. I think there’s something wrong with him.”

Jeno snorts but the smile he gives Donghyuck is sincere. “What do you need, Hyuckie?” he asks.

“Your car. We’re going on a treasure hunt!”

“A treasure hunt?” Jaemin scoffs. “For the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Or maybe the sleep you’re making me lose?”

“No.” Donghyuck grins, all teeth, cheshire-like. “For a dead body.”

Jaemin goes very still, his eyebrows furrowed as he mulls over Donghyuck’s words. “Oh. That’s pretty metal, actually.”

“It is. You in?”

“Definitely,” Jaemin says, but Jeno doesn’t answer. Both Donghyuck and Jaemin turn to him, the silent witness. “Jen?”

“A dead body?” he chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not this time. You still in?”

Jeno frowns, arms curling around his bare torso as he thinks. In the silvery moonlight, his skin looks translucent, pallid. He almost blends into the gossamer curtains which ebb and flow with the gentle motion of the wind. It’s as if the slightest movement could wash him away.

Then, he smiles, bright as sunlight, warm as day. “Let me get changed, first,” he says. “It’s kinda cold outside.”

 

 

 

Renjun sighs, heavy and worn. “Why are you here, Hyuck?”

He’s on the roof, arms crossed behind his head, facing the stars. The tiles rattle under his weight. Donghyuck stands just below on the road, in the headlights of the car. The background hum of the engine is enough to drown out the wind.

“We’re going on an adventure,” Donghyuck says.

Renjun’s lips quirk up. “That so?” He sits up slowly as if peeling himself from the roof. A tile slips, teetering on the edge of falling. Renjun looks down at Donghyuck with lazy eyes. “And what’s this adventure?” he asks.

“Do you remember Mark Lee?”

At the mention of his name, Renjun’s smile slips into something else, something slower and sweeter. “How could I forget.”

“We’re going to find him.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “You know where he is?”

“Of course. I think I’ve always known.” Renjun doesn’t comment on the last part: he takes it as it comes, easy as the tide, a simple push and pull. It’s as if he understands, and some part of Donghyuck thinks he _does._ “So… are you in?”

But Donghyuck already knows the answer; they would go to the ends of the earth for each other, would sail until the horizon bleeds into the sun. The bond between them runs deeper than life or death. Sometimes Donghyuck looks at his friends and he thinks he would die for them, and a part of Donghyuck — the dreamer, the romantic, the Donghyuck from a past life — thinks he already has. They’re so in tune that Donghyuck can hear the clock ticking in Renjun’s brain as he waits for the predetermined answer to catch up to him.

“Of course,” he says, smiling down at Donghyuck for what feels like years.

Their story could very well end there: Donghyuck frozen in the headlights of the car, Renjun anchored to the roof, both of them smiling at each other unto infinity. But then, the loose tile besides Renjun slips. The grating sound it makes as it travels down the slope of the roof makes Donghyuck clench his teeth. He trails it with his eyes as it topples over the edge and crashes to the ground below, a sound like shattering glass.

A light in Renjun’s house turns on. For a moment, it seems as though even the wind stops, the only background sound being the steady chug of the car engine. Then, Renjun unfreezes, sliding down the slope of the roof with steady hands. He dangles off the edge and Donghyuck feels his heart freeze in his chest. The urge to rush forward in case Renjun falls is overwhelming. But, Renjun is steady. He’s done this many times before, and Donghyuck knows this, but it doesn’t stop the sharp intake of breath as Renjun toes the windowsill and bends down to crouch on the thin ledge.

When he jumps down to the ground, Donghyuck shuts his eyes. The sound he makes as he falls is mellow, not the shatter of tile or glass like Donghyuck had been expecting, but even still, he can’t open his eyes. He won’t. Not until Renjun lays a soft hand on his shoulder and Donghyuck feels the warmth of his smile. He pries open his eyes to see Renjun standing there, a smudge of dirt on his cheek, moss from the roof in his hair.

“Hey,” Renjun says. Nothing more, nothing less. Donghyuck thinks it’s all he needs. The hand on his shoulder drops down and dangles between them, their fingers brushing but not clasping, electric. Donghyuck shivers at the feeling. “We should go before they see us,” Renjun says when neither of them move. Donghyuck nods, still staring at Renjun, still frozen. Renjun rolls his eyes and grabs Donghyuck’s hand to drag him over to the car.

What Donghyuck expects when he gets to the car is Jeno and Jaemin sat in the front, Jeno doodling on Jaemin’s arm, Jaemin with his hands on the wheel and a half-smile on his face. He doesn’t expect them cuddled up on the backseat nursing a bottle of vodka.

“Are you kidding?” Donghyuck hisses. “Why?”

“It’s an excellent plan,” Jeno says with a lazy smile. “Get so drunk we can’t remember seeing a dead body, and that way we can spend time with you and _not_ be traumatised.”

“As opposed to all the other times we’ve spent with you,” Jaemin adds on without looking up, too distracted with the way his fingers thread through Jeno’s hair. Donghyuck pokes his tongue at him.

Renjun shrugs and slides into the front seat, leaving Donghyuck outside to watch Jaemin trace circles into Jeno’s skin through the haze of the dirtied car window. “Guess I’m driving.”

 

 

 

Donghyuck curls his hand into a makeshift telescope and squints through it. The sea cuts his vision in half, the deep blue crested with waves a stark contrast to the starry night sky. Or maybe not all that stark. The sea and the sky aren’t all that different, Donghyuck thinks. Two sides of the same coin.

“I’ve been here before,” he decides, dropping his telescope and opening up his vision to the world around him. The beach is seemingly endless, and in the distance, white cliffs rise up like pillars to the sky.

“We’ve all been here before, Hyuck,” Jaemin says as he gets out of the car. “We live here.”

“No, I mean _before._ In another life.”

Jaemin squints over at him and then groans. “Fucking hell, you think Jeno and I are insufferable, but _you,”_ Jaemin shakes his head. “Donghyuck, _you_ take the fucking cake.”

“Well, you _are_ insufferable. Look at Jeno, he can barely even walk.” Donghyuck points over to where Renjun’s attempting to ease Jeno from the car. When he plants his feet on the ground and attempts to stand, he sways like a drunken sailor. Donghyuck sighs. “He’s not even going to be able to walk out of the car park.”

“He’s so cute, though, look at him,” Jaemin says. It’s true. Jeno’s always been the cutest of them, but the way Jaemin looks at him, eyes sick with love, only makes Donghyuck’s stomach twist. He fake gags and Jaemin laughs. “You’re just jealous. It’s okay, Hyuckie boy, you’ll find love one day. Who knows. Maybe it’s right in front of you.”

“I know what you’re saying and I’m going to choose to ignore it,” Donghyuck grumbles and Jaemin only laughs harder.

The both of them watch as Renjun strokes Jeno’s back, asking him how much he drank, telling him that it’s ok to throw up. He moves like a jellyfish, boneless in Renjun’s arms. Donghyuck sighs and turns to Jaemin.

“We’re going to have to leave him. You couldn’t have waited to get pissed until, like, after?”

“He really doesn’t want to see a dead body,” Jaemin says.

“Then why did he come?”

“For you.”

The words feel thick in Donghyuck’s throat, and despite himself, he smiles. He’s so terribly fond.

“Stay with him. Make sure he doesn’t die,” Donghyuck says. Jaemin doesn’t protest, but Donghyuck didn’t expect him to. Jaemin hurries around and takes Jeno into his arms to shovel him back in the car.

Renjun looks at him over the top of the car, smiling as if drunk, and part of Donghyuck thinks they are. His mind is cloudy with thoughts of the impossible and memories that he isn’t quite sure are his own, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like he’s losing himself. It feels like he’s _becoming_ himself.

And what better way to find himself than to have Renjun by his side.

 

 

 

“You know where you’re going?” Renjun asks as they walk along the beach. It’s dark, and though there are torches in Donghyuck’s bag, he doesn’t get them out. Not yet, at least. The fading light of the street lamps is enough for now.

“Over there,” Donghyuck says, stopping in place. He points over at the chalk cliffs in the distance, the white rock almost seeming to glow in the dark of night.

“It’s so far,” Renjun complains, but Donghyuck knows that he won’t turn back.

There’s sand in their hair and their noses are already bitten red with windchill, and Donghyuck thinks that, despite their differences, Renjun is like him in the only way that truly matters: they’re full of curiosity. Once they’ve got an idea in their minds, they can’t shake it. It roots in the wrinkles of their brains and blossoms into something all-consuming. They find respite in each other and true satisfaction in adventure.

The walk to the cliffs is arduous. Donghyuck’s legs whine as he trudges through the wet sand, his feet sinking deeper and deeper with each step. He’s cold and his mind swims with want of sleep, but somehow, each step closer brings relief, not to his mind or body, but to his soul.

Donghyuck laughs. It bubbles out of him, light and carefree, and though the sea swells with untold tragedy, he feels only relief to be by its side.

“You’re so happy,” Renjun observes, a small smile on his face as he watches Donghyuck.

“I am.”

“I wonder, how long have you been waiting for this?”

Donghyuck pauses at the question. He isn't entirely sure. “Forever, maybe?”

Renjun only rolls his eyes. “That’s your answer for everything.”

“That’s all there is,” he says despite himself because a part of Donghyuck thinks it is so. There is forever in everything; the sea, the sand, the slow centuries-long carving of coastlines and cliff faces. It’s in the big — in ideas, philosophies, religions — right down to the small — people, conversations, atoms. There are forevers in hours and minutes if you look hard enough. Donghyuck carries Mark Lee through lifetimes. This is his forever.

When they reach the base of the cliff, Donghyuck comes to a halt. Weathered material sits at the bottom of the cliff, rocks of all different sizes and colours, some jagged, some rounded and smooth. There’s a small outcrop of rock that juts into the sea, and with each glut of wave, it becomes overwhelmed with water. It’s perilous, and the fear sinks into Donghyuck’s bones. They’ve been told many times before never to go there lest they die a fool's death, but what is Donghyuck, if not a fool?

Renjun stands beside him, their fingertips brushing together in the gentle wind, and Donghyuck finds that his presence is comforting. Renjun’s always been larger than life, and standing besides Donghyuck now, he feels more concrete than the cliffs and more passionate than the sea. He shuffles closer to Donghyuck and holds his hand, the warmth of his skin against Donghyuck’s own as comforting as a simmering hearth in midwinter.

“You have me,” Renjun says, squeezing Donghyuck’s hand. “Not to brag or anything, but I’ve been climbing onto my roof since I was a kid. I think I can get us over a couple of rocks, if you’d trust me.”

Donghyuck squeezes back. “I trust you. I don’t trust the rocks, though.”

Renjun shrugs. “You can choose what to do. He’s waited this long, he can wait a little bit more.”

“I know he can, but… I don’t think _I_ can.”

Donghyuck eyes the rocks and the way the seafoam drizzles down them and escapes through cracks and crevices. He wants this. He wants it so badly his soul aches, but what use is Donghyuck dead, on top of a fool?

“If it’s any consolation, I won’t let you die. There’s one of those life-saving buoys if you’d rather wear that?”

Donghyuck trails his eyes over to the buoy sitting further up the beach and wrinkles his nose. “No. The orange clashes too much with my wellies.”

“Right,” Renjun snorts. “So what do you want to do?”

Donghyuck squeezes Renjun’s hand tighter, feels the subtle dip of his knuckles, the smooth skin of his palm. “I want to trust you.”

“Great. So, rock climbing 101. First lesson: _don’t fall.”_

Of course, Donghyuck falls. His steps are less sure than Renjun’s, whose toes seem to seek out the edges and curves of the rocks. When the waves come crashing into them, Donghyuck stand straight and strong but still feels his legs waver under the unrelenting force of the water. But, with each step, Donghyuck feels his confidence grow.

“You can let go of my hand, now,” Donghyuck says, one arm out to balance himself. Renjun’s further up on the rocks, just where the water can’t reach. He frowns down at Donghyuck but tentatively lets go. “See? This is great. I’m fine.”

Renjun’s hesitance seems to melt away with every passing second that Donghyuck doesn’t fall and lose himself to the sea. His frown disappears and he smiles reassuringly. “You are. Just follow my footsteps, yeah? Slowly.” Donghyuck crawls up the rocks to where Renjun is, and though it takes time, he gets there. “Where next?”

Donghyuck points over at a small cave carved into the cliff face. Taking a torch from his backpack, Donghyuck shines it into the mouth of the cave.  There are pools of water near the entrance where the high tide had overfilled small dips in the rock, and further back, the rock seems to blend into darkness. There’s no telling how deep the cave runs.

Renjun traces the entrance with his eyes and then sucks in a heavy breath. “It looks like a gate to hell. Let’s go.”

The air in the cave is different: it’s neither cold nor hot, but an uncomfortable lukewarm, almost humid, and it smells of damp. Donghyuck wrinkles his nose as he steps in. It seems like such an inglorious place to die. Such a contrast, Donghyuck thinks, between a throne of jewels and diamonds, and that of wet rock and limpets.

Donghyuck’s hand shakes as he shines the torch over the walls of the cave. Insects scurry away from the light and walls almost seem to shine. The further they venture in, the more pungent the smell becomes.

“I don’t like it,” Donghyuck says. “It feels wrong. It doesn’t feel like Mark’s cave.”

Renjun agrees. “It’s not very grand. I pictured something else. Something… larger and less smelly. This is just plain.”

The disappointment weighs heavy in the air. Donghyuck feels terrible for dragging Renjun out here, for putting them in danger on the rocks, all for a couple of rock pools and stalagmites. He switches off the torch and lets the dark drown them. The only light in the cave pours in through the entrance, slippery silver moonlight watered down with the heavy ache of disappointment.

Donghyuck drags himself out to the entrance and leans against the rock to look out at sea. It’s almost like the sea in his dreams — the horizon is the same, the curl of waves is the same, too — and yet, it’s so impossibly different that he can’t even begin to pick out why.

He almost feels like crying. When he speaks to Renjun he keeps his gaze low and blames the burn in his eyes on the brine in the air.

“We should go back,” he says.

“I don’t think we can.” At this, Donghyuck looks up. Renjun isn’t looking at him, but rather, at the place the rocks once were, now swollen with water. “Look. The tide came in.”

 

 

 

Donghyuck was six when he fell down the little well in their village and broke his leg. Yerim had grown sick of his whining and pulled out her crayons to draw a treasure map, whispering to him behind the couch in their living room a fable about pirates and buried treasure. With his yellow raincoat and wellington boots, Donghyuck had taken the map and set off on the journey of a lifetime, determined to come back with pocketfuls of diamonds and golden coins, enough to help his parents pay the bills (or at least, enough to buy a sprite from the corner shop).

That hour he was down there felt like forever. It was so dark he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him, and the smell was awful, the wet mould crawling down his throat and eating away at his lungs. They felt soggy for days afterwards.

The only light there was came from the pinhole sky hanging above him like some kind of unreachable, earthly heaven, all blue skies and chocolate-box clouds. He’d never felt so small in all his life; the mud-slick walls seemed to creep inward and the air was thick and muggy. He was as trapped as trapped could be, and he spent that hour, that long, lonely hour, staring at the sky as if it would save him.

As the tide rushes in and they’re forced further backward into the cave, Donghyuck is reminded of that well, of the slimy walls and the scent of damp. The sea, much like the sky back then, is an unreachable paradise and Donghyuck pines after its freedom.

His only saving grace is that he’s not alone.

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck says. They’re sat so far back in the cave that his words echo over the distant rush of the waves. “I forgot about the tides.”

Despite the disappointment, Renjun doesn’t look as downcast as Donghyuck feels. He reaches over and clasps one of Donghyuck’s hands in his own, drawing it into his lap. Though it’s lighter outside, the back of the cave is still dark, and the torches are propped up on the wall beside them. Their light casts ghoulish shadows across the floor of the cave and Donghyuck distracts from the tickle of Renjun’s fingers against his skin with the slow movement of the shadows.

“I did, too. We’re going to be stuck here a while. Jaemin and Jeno will think we’ve died,” Renjun laughs, as though it’s a morbid comfort. When Donghyuck doesn’t answer, he’s quick to correct himself. “Actually, if anyone’s dying tonight, it’s Jeno. He can barely handle a shot and yet he had half a bottle.”

Donghyuck snorts. “I think he had the right idea. This would’ve been more fun if we were drunk.”

“If you were drunk you would never have made it across the rocks. The sea would’ve got you.”

“And I would’ve let it.”

Renjun stops tracing circles on Donghyuck’s skin to look up at him through the low light. “You wouldn’t have. You’re not a pushover, Donghyuck. You would’ve fought the sea. All these years you’ve been fighting it, so why give up now, at the very end?”

“I’m flattered you think I have the balls to fight the sea.”

“It’s not an easy task, but nothing with you ever is. You’re so complex. It’s been a joy learning how to unpick you.” There’s a strange quality to Renjun’s voice, one that unsettles Donghyuck. For the first time tonight, Renjun doesn’t meet his eyes. He keeps his gaze fixed on Donghyuck’s hand.

Donghyuck gives a nervous laugh. “You’re speaking as if we’re never going to see each other again. You’re never this sentimental.”

Renjun freezes and then lets go of Donghyuck’s hand. “I’m sentimental,” he argues.

“Oh, I forgot. Renjun, the romantic who stargazes on his roof past morning,” Donghyuck giggles as Renjun sits up and trudges toward the entrance of the cave, his boots sloshing through the water. “Hey, come back. I’m just teasing. I know you love me, really.”

Renjun stops halfway to the entrance, the water up to his knees. In the moment that he turns around, light breaks across the entrance and spills into the cave. Not moonlight, but sunlight, warm and thick, golden light that seeps through Renjun’s hair and settles in his bones. He glows as if lit from within.

Something inside Donghyuck unmoors.

He follows Renjun through the cave and into the water. It’s icy and numbing, and Donghyuck is struck by just how _wet_ it is, but he wouldn’t turn back for the world. He stands just in front of Renjun where he can see the light blooming behind him, and he reaches up with trembling fingers to trace the delicate edges of Renjun’s neck, his jaw, his nose, before stopping at last at his lips. Donghyuck grows hazy with want.

“You can kiss me, you know,” Renjun says when Donghyuck doesn’t move. He traces the swell of his lips, the dips at the corner of his smile, the beginnings of a dimple in his cheek, and then drops his hand. Renjun almost looks disappointed. “What are you so afraid of?”

“The same thing that led me to this cave… I think it led me to you. I don’t want to mess this up, either.”

The smile Renjun gives him is tender. “Oh, Hyuck,” he says, voice impossibly fond. He reaches up to tuck away a lock of hair behind Donghyuck’s ear, and, before Donghyuck even has the chance to breathe, he leans in and kisses him.

It’s as though everything melts away — the lingering disappointment, the curling tightness in his chest. Donghyuck wonders how he was ever so scared. The tide laps at his thighs and he’s reminded that they’re just _boys,_ boys who lost themselves at sea and then found themselves again in a place full of golden sunlight.

When Renjun pulls back, he rests his forehead on Donghyuck’s and sighs in content. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Donghyuck pinches his side and Renjun yelps. “Don’t ruin the atmosphere.”

“Sorry, sorry. We still have to wait for the tide to pull back, you know.”

Donghyuck leans in again, his lips brushing Renjun’s own. Time is slow in these moments, and Donghyuck savours every second.  “We can make up for lost time, then.”

Donghyuck can feel Renjun gasp against his lips, and then the harsh prod of his bony fingers as he pushes him away. “You’re so sleazy,” Renjun says, wrinkling his nose. “Stay away from me or I’ll never kiss you again.”

It’s an empty threat, Donghyuck knows, so he laughs anyway, fingertips tracing the memory of Renjun’s lips against his own. He shuts his eyes and remembers the taste of him — salty, sweet, everything in between, everything that is right. When he opens his eyes, he’s struck by an otherworldly beauty: that of Renjun, but also that of the sea, which almost seems to reflect the dawn and melt into the sky.

“You know, Mark Lee sat here, once,” Donghyuck decides. He hadn’t been sure before, but the dawn brings with it a finality and confirms all that Donghyuck once knew.

Renjun looks over at him. “Is that so?”

“Yep. There was a battle out at sea, just where the horizon meets the end of the earth, and he lost. His boat sunk to the bottom of the ocean along with his crew and all the treasures he’d found in his life. But Mark Lee survived. He swam to shore and ended up in this cave. He sat over there, on that rock.” Donghyuck points to a small limpet-covered rock near the entrance of the cave, it’s bottom half drowned in tide and sea-foam. “He looked out at the horizon as the sun set and decided that he was at the end of his journey. That there was nothing more left to discover, about the world, or about himself. And then he died.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. His life unravelled, his story unsung. Utterly human to the end.”

“How tragic,” Renjun says sincerely.

“I thought he’d be here, but I guess not. Looks like the sea got him.”

Renjun snorts. “And what were you planning to do with his skeleton? Take it back home? Scare Yerim with it?”

Donghyuck pauses and then shrugs. “I didn’t think that far… I don’t know.”

But Renjun doesn’t look wholly convinced. “I think you do.”

And he does. Donghyuck would have stood in the water as the tide came in and watched by Mark’s side as the sun rose. Then, he would have leant down to whisper in Mark’s ear words that can only be shared between lovers of a different time. And, just before the sun fully rose, the sea would have stolen him, carried him away from Donghyuck, and out to the place where the horizon meets the end of the earth.

 

 

 

By the time the tide recedes it’s morning. Donghyuck’s mind swims with lack of sleep, and he nearly passes out where he’s sat with his head in Renjun’s lap, but Renjun gets up and pulls him to his feet. Hand in hand, they leave the cave and journey across the rocks back to the beach. Donghyuck is more confident this time around. He doesn’t need to hold Renjun’s hand; the only difference is that he wants to.

It’s only when they reach the car park that they let go. Donghyuck slides his hands into his pocket, feeling for the first time how cold and numb they are, how lonely. He aches to hold Renjun’s hand again, but holds himself back. There’s plenty of time for that. He knows that, now.

Even in day time, the road running alongside the beach is deserted, and Donghyuck is struck by just how isolated it is. The cliffs seem to wall in the beach and the endless sea only serves to confine them, to _define_ them: this is all that Donghyuck is, bundled up and held tight in a island-shaped box. The car park is just as lonely, too, and they stare helplessly at the empty place Jeno’s car was parked only hours ago.

“Where did they go?” Donghyuck asks, though some part of him already knows the answer.

Renjun’s lips press into a thin line and the sea breeze ruffles his hair. His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“The sea got them.”

 

 


End file.
